


Any Means Necessary

by Dragonsister899



Series: Pray for the Wicked [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Geoff is mentioned a couple times, I tried to be subtle, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, nothing onscreen though, same with Lindsay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-17 00:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14176629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsister899/pseuds/Dragonsister899
Summary: There were compromises and concessions that had to be made in this line of work and as long as the Fakes came out on top, any means necessary were to be used to their fullest extent. If they troubled you at night while you tried in vain to sleep, that’s no one’s business but your own.





	Any Means Necessary

The lights of the unfamiliar city and late night cars passing far below did little to illuminate the dim waiting room of this penthouse apartment. Alfredo Diaz, the newest muscle of the Fake AH Crew, paced the fine carpet impatiently. He knew the two toughs flanking the heavy wooden doors to the office were no true threat to him nor his charge. Looking up from the screen of his phone, Alfredo glanced at them. Matching cheap suits, matching poorly hidden guns under their jackets, matching bored looks on matching forgettable faces. Their impassive stance frustrated Alfredo even further. Looking back at his phone, he waited for the reply to his last message.

_How long should T be in there????_

_Getting antsy? ;P_

_It used to take me ages._

_Lots of shouting and compromises that got us nowhere._

_As long as he gets us the green light we’d be fine_

_I don’t like it_

The blinking dots of a reply remained just dots. Alfredo looked over his shoulder at the impassive doors to the penthouse office. It had been over an hour with no noticeable changes. No sounds had drifted through the heavy doors and the two schmucks looked ready to stand there for ages. Alfredo’s phone buzzed in his hand with Geoff’s answer

_No one likes it_

_Let him do his job, fredo._

Scowling at the phone, Alfredo almost missed the opening click of the door behind him. Alfredo turned to the office doors as they pulled open, showing the greasy countenance of the local mob boss the Fakes needed to parley with. Alfredo didn’t bother to remember his name. It wasn’t why he was here. The man pulled the door open further, revealing Alfredo’s charge.

“A pleasure doing business, Mr. Collins,” the man sneered.

Trevor stepped out of the office towards Alfredo, ignoring the two guards. Alfredo frowned. Trevor’s suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, his dress shirt partially unbuttoned. When he had walked into the office over an hour ago, not a hair was out of place and though it didn’t look as if he had been in a fight, Trevor never looked this disheveled after any of the other meetings Alfredo had escorted him to.

Alfredo turned with Trevor to the elevator at the far side of the room and as he pressed the button to summon the lift, the boss behind them graced them with the parting words “I think I like dealin’ with you better than that old bastard or red bitch, Mr. Collins. Do feel free to come again any time.”

The doors to the office closed again as the elevator dinged. Stepping in, Alfredo and Trevor turned back to the room as the laughter of the boss drifted through the hated doors. The elevator slid closed on the dim waiting room. “What was that about?” Alfredo asked, in the small private space.

“Don’t worry about it,” Trevor said. Alfredo looked at him in suspicion. Trevor’s voice, usually energetic and smooth, never far from laughter even while dealing with the seedy underbelly of Los Santos, sounded tired and rough. Trevor’s eyes slid close almost in exhaustion, a far cry from the determination that lit them before the penthouse meeting. As the elevator descended, Alfredo looked back at their hazy reflections in the shiny doors before them. “Are you ok, man?” Alfredo ventured, as Trevor shrugged into his jacket.

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Sauce.” The familiar nickname sounded weary and worn, with none of the playfulness Trevor usually had.

“Trevor…”

“Not yet.” Trevor subtly inclined his head towards the top corner of the elevator where Alfredo had seen the security camera on the way up to the penthouse. Alfredo furrowed his brow as the doors slid open again and the two of them stepped into the lobby of the building. Trevor walked pass the receptionist and security guards paying them no mind as Alfredo followed a step behind, trying to keep an eye out for threats while keeping up with Trevor. Their car was waiting for them at the curb. Opening the driver-side door, Alfredo tried again, “Trevor.” But the man was already sliding into the far side of the car. Huffing a breath, Alfredo followed and started the engine. “Where to?” he asked.

“Not here.” Trevor laid his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. He heaved a sigh, ruffling his still-mussed hair, before opening them again. “I want coffee.”

Alfredo gave him another concerned look before turning back to the road. “On it.”

**********************

The 24-hour diner right inside the Los Santos border was empty by the time Alfredo pulled up and killed the engine. The tired waitress showed them to a booth near the back before taking their order, a water and a black coffee. Trevor surprised Alfredo once again by taking the seat closer to the wall, leaving Alfredo to leave his back to the restaurant. Alfredo knew the sleepy waitress and the lone cook back in the kitchen were no threat and that he could easily defend this position, but still. Once their drinks arrived, Trevor sat hunched over his mug, looking into the black liquid like it would reveal the secrets of time and space to him if he were to stare into it long enough. Alfredo waited patiently, sipping his water as Trevor gathered himself to speak.

After some time had passed, Trevor began, “we have access to the city’s docks and free range of Falcone’s contacts. We’re free to throw our weight around as long as we don’t draw Falcone’s eye or make too many waves. We have plenty of wiggle room to make a foothold here though.” He ended his report with a long drink of hot coffee as Alfredo considered what this meant.

“That’s way more than Geoff expected,” Alfredo realized. “What price are we paying for this? A favor? Resources?”

Trevor shook his head, looking down at his mug. He delayed his answer, taking another long sip. “Nothing. We owe him nothing.”

“Holy shit, dude. No way he’s just letting the Fakes have free reign of his city.”

“We’re square, Alfredo, we don’t owe him anything as long as we don’t step on any toes.” Alfredo sat back, looking at Trevor in awe. If an hour alone with Falcone had resulted in this, Alfredo would try to be more patient in the future, but for the present, he was still at a loss for how Trevor had done it.

“How’d you manage that one?” He asked incredulously. Trevor took another long sip of his coffee, emptying the mug. He stood, pulling his wallet out of a pocket. He left some bills on the table, easily covering ten times the cost of the single coffee.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Fredo.” Trevor said, turning to go. “’m just doing my job. I just thought I’d be done with this now that I’m…” He sighed, ducking his head down, looking askance. “Nevermind.”

Alfredo began to stand to follow him out to the car, but stopped when Trevor waved him down, not even turning around. “Don’t bother, man. I’ll walk back to my place and crash there tonight. You head back to the penthouse and let Geoff know we got the greenlight.” Trevor walked past the tired goodbye of the waitress and passed out into the night, hands in his pockets and head down. Alfredo watched him from the window for as long as he could until Trevor faded from sight. With a long sigh, Alfredo stood and headed out to the car, ready for the night to be over.

*******************

The Fake’s penthouse was dark when Alfredo opened the front door, but not quite still. The television in the main room could be heard faintly over the quiet hum of the city below. Alfredo was more at ease here in the Fake’s main place of residence than at Falcone’s, feeling the difference between the two. The Fake’s apartment was obviously lived-in and well used, but still tasteful despite the clutter. Falcone’s was merely a showing of obscene wealth, meant to intimidate it’s visitors. As Alfredo crossed the threshold into the main room, he saw the source of the sound. Gavin Free, Los Santos’s golden boy, was lounging in a fuzzy leopard print bathrobe staring at an open laptop on his lap while the TV played softly in the background, illuminating the room. Gavin looked up as Alfredo entered the room and smiled his greeting, “Fredo! Back already? You and Treyc’s must’ve made good time.”

Smiling in turn, Alfredo answered, “The best. Trevor and Falcone talked for an hour and we got the green light. I’m here to report it to Geoff.”

“He’s asleep right now, I’m afraid,” Gavin said. “Where’s Trevor?”

“He’s staying at his own place for the night. He seemed pretty tired after the meeting.”

Gavin’s mouth turned down as he thought for a moment, “How’d the meeting go then?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Alfredo shrugged, hands in his pockets. “They were in Falcone’s office the whole time while I waited in the foyer.”

Gavin’s brow furrowed further, frown deepening. “He was in there for an hour, you said?”

“Yeah, just about. Drove me crazy with the waiting.”

Gavin ran a hand over his face, covering his mouth as he looked down at his screen. Alfredo barely heard him when he muttered “Bloody hell, that bastard.”

“Why, what of it?” Alfredo asked, sensing the mood shift.

Gavin muted the TV and set his laptop aside. He looked Alfredo straight in the eye, pondering his response. He took a deep breath and let it all out at once. He started slowly, “You know why they didn’t send me on this one?”

“No, not really,” Alfredo answered honestly. He knew that Gavin’s specialty was in making deals and working with his words. He was the crew’s front-man aside from Geoff, representing the Fakes in the diplomatic sense. It had struck Alfredo as odd that Trevor, largely a behind-the-scenes kind of guy, had taken point on this negotiation with Falcone.

“I know it seems I’m always doing the talking,” Gavin began. “But really, I only go in to make deals when we know we’ve already got the upper hand. I’m successful because I’ve always been. If I were to compromise even once, my reputation for being unrelenting would be garbo. I’m able to be the finisher in negotiations because that’s all I ever need to be.” He looked at the ceiling, collecting his thoughts further. Looking back at Alfredo, Gavin continued, “Whenever we’re on the back foot, whenever the outcome of a parley is uncertain, I can’t lead the talks. That’s when Geoff or Lindsay step in. And now,”

“Trevor does it,” Alfredo said, realizing where this was going.

Gavin nodded. “When Geoff sent Trevor to Falcone, Treyco knew we needed this and that he had Geoff’s go-ahead to use whatever means necessary.” He paused, looking down at his closed laptop. Alfredo waited, knowing he was about to get the answer for Trevor’s strange behavior. Gavin sucked in another deep breath. “Do you know what Treyc’s did before he joined the Fakes?”

“He’s a rocket scientist, isn’t he?” Alfredo ventured.

Gavin smiled for a moment, but it quickly faded. “No, I meant before that. Before he had the money to go to school.”

Alfredo was at a loss, “I don’t know, I’ve never asked.”

“Prob’ly better to keep it that way,” Gavin shifted uncomfortably. “Just know that this isn’t the first time Treyc’s had to deal with a mingin’ character while at a disadvantage. You said he got us the green light?”

Alfredo nodded, trying to process what Gavin was saying. Gav nodded mostly to himself and stood. As he passed Alfredo in the doorway he paused. “I’m off to bed. Don’t worry about it too much, Fredo. Trev’s just doing his job.” He walked off quietly into the depths of the penthouse, leaving Alfredo in the empty room with the silent TV still running.

Alfredo stood there in that doorway for a long time, watching as the city skyline began to lighten with the coming dawn. Eventually he shook himself and headed to the spare room he had begun to use recently. Best not to think too hard about it, he thought to himself as he nodded off on the soft bed. There were compromises and concessions that had to be made in this line of work and as long as the Fakes came out on top, any means necessary were to be used to their fullest extent, and if they troubled you at night while you tried to sleep, that’s no one’s business but your own.

**Author's Note:**

> I used Falcone from batman because I couldn't think of any other gangster names. I tried guys. Let me know what you think.


End file.
